


No Paradise on a Planet Without You

by perphesone



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Episode: s01e25 This Side of Paradise, M/M, TOS episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perphesone/pseuds/perphesone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They stood beside each other, both looking straight ahead and taking comfort, as they often did, not in touching but in knowing that the other was close enough to touch."</p><p>After the attack on Yorktown, the Enterprise is sent to investigate the effects of a newly discovered, highly dangerous type of radiation that has supposedly destroyed a colony on the planet Omicron Ceti III. When they arrive planetside, they find a thriving colony sustained by the happiness-inducing spores of an alien plant. Jim Kirk's fight to keep his crew as they are exposed to the spores forces him to confront his own jealousy, frustration, and feelings of impotence. And maybe he's in love with Spock, too.</p><p>AOS retelling of TOS 1x25 "This Side of Paradise," with more vulcans and more declarations of love</p><p>Jim is Gay As Hell</p><p>(takes place after Star Trek Beyond, but doesn't address the events in specifics, so no big spoilers and you don't have to watch the movie first)</p><p>❤ thank you to secretfrog for beta reading ❤</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Captain’s Log, Stardate: 2263.53_ **

_The newly refitted_ Enterprise _is currently en route to our first mission destination following the attack on Yorktown: a Federation colony on Omicron Ceti III. It’s been a little over a month since the attack, and it seems that Starfleet is hoping to keep the_ Enterprise _out of trouble for the time being. Our mission is straightforward and low-risk, if a little bleak. Shortly after the colonists arrived on Omicron Ceti III, all communication was lost. It was later discovered that the planet was being bombarded constantly by previously undetected radiation, assumed to be deadly to most known life forms within a few weeks of continued exposure. The Omicron colony was established just over five years ago, so anything that made it off the ship will be long dead. Our job, now that precautions against these rays—named Berthold rays, after Lesedi Berthold, the researcher who identified them, although God knows why she wanted to be associated with deadly space radiation for the rest of her life…_

Jim had caught himself there before his offhand comment spiralled so far away from the facts of the mission that he’d have had to throw this into the _Personal Logs_ file and start his dictation all over again for the official record.

_Our mission! Our mission, now that temporary shielding from the Berthold rays is possible, is to document the effects of the radiation on whatever’s left of the colony, as well as the planet as a whole. It may not be exciting, but it’ll give our scientists a chance to stretch their legs and do some of what they came out here for. We should be locked into synchronous orbit above the Omicron colony within thirty minutes. Once our orbit is secured, I’ll beam down to the surface accompanied by Commander Spock, Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Brorr, Lieutenant DuPont, and Lieutenant Sulu to assess the initial situation._

**_End Log._ **

Two hours or so later, after changing into the appropriate planetside excursion uniforms and slathering themselves with radiation-blocking cream—“sunscreen on steroids,” as Bones had explained it—Jim and the rest of the landing party beamed down and materialized in a flash of gold on the surface of Omicron Ceti III. It was a Class M planet—Earth-like, aside from the deadly radiation—so he had expected to be greeted by blue skies, breathable air, maybe some native flora that had taken root despite the Berthold rays.

He had not expected to be greeted by a scene from an interstellar colonist recruitment holovid.

They had beamed down adjacent to a field of crops, evidently root vegetables of some kind, which were being unearthed and collected in straw baskets by four or five _living_ humans. Rather than the ruins and scattered bones they had anticipated, these people seemed to be not only alive but _healthy,_ robust, and more ‘sunkissed and glowing’ than ‘wasted away by radiation poisoning.’ Several yards away from them on the other side of the field Jim could see a few buildings, presumably some of the living quarters of the colonists. It could have been called idyllic, pastoral even. In the time it took for Jim to take in the colonial scene, a thin crowd had begun to gather around them, cautious, taken aback by their unexpected visitors. He couldn’t blame them. As far as he knew, they hadn’t had any contact with Starfleet or the Federation or anyone at all from outside the colony in years.

“Well, Jim, this is just an educated guess,” McCoy ventured from his place a few feet to Jim’s left, “just speculation, really, but if you put a gun to my head and made me choose I’d have to say these folks are alive.

After a moment of apprehension, a man stood up from where he had been kneeling between two rows of the plants being harvested. He was maybe forty-five years old, with brown skin and streaks of dust wiped across his forehead and the bridge of his nose. His expression was welcoming.

“Yes, we are very much alive here. I’m Elias Sandoval,” he said, approaching the landing party with open arms. “Welcome to Omicron Ceti III.”

Jim took his outstretched hand and shook it. “Thank you, Mister Sandoval. My name is James Kirk, captain of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. This is my first officer, Commander Spock, and my chief medical officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy.” He gestured to the men standing on either side of him. “We’re here on Federation orders to… assess the condition of your colony,” he explained, not quite lying.

“Well, what a surprise! It’s wonderful to see you, Captain Kirk. Our subspace radio transmitters all but failed about a week after we arrived planetside and we haven’t had any visitors since. This was meant to be an agricultural colony, so nobody here was quite equipped to repair the transmitters—not even the vulcans,” he explained brightly. “I’m surprised anything managed to get back to Starfleet at all.”

Vulcans? That was news to him. He’d known there were a few non-humans among the colonists, but given that everyone here was supposed to have died years ago he hadn’t spent too much time reviewing the colonists’ detailed personnel files. He read enough to recognize Elias Sandoval as the original leader of the party, but that was about it. He tried to meet Spock’s eyes, but they were fixed on Sandoval.

“Mister Sandoval,” Spock began, hands clasped behind his straight back, “the vulcans to which you are referring are K’Seth Sa’Raal T'Reia and—”

“ _Spock!_ ”

Jim’s eyes dart to the source of the voice: a dark-haired man leaning out of the bare window of the nearest building behind Sandoval. He disappeared from the window before Jim could get a good look at him, but a moment later he was striding out of the front door, into the Omicron sunlight and right up to Spock. Jim watched his fluid movements with fascination. He was tall, dressed like the other colonists in an unadorned shirt and overalls that looked like they’d seen their share of tearing and mending. His glossy dark hair looked untrimmed and fell messily around his face, but his angled brows and the tips of his pointed ears weren’t quite hidden. His skin, a shade or two darker than Spock’s and tinged with green, looked practically chlorophyllic in the afternoon sun. This man was a vulcan, the honest-to-god _smile_ on his face be damned.

In the face of another vulcan, however indecorous, Spock had gone even more stiff, his face hyper-composed as he raised his right hand to the approaching vulcan in the ta’al salute. “Stonn. Dif-tor heh smusma.”

Stonn wrapped Spock up in a hug instead.

Jim’s hand automatically landed on his phaser and out of his peripheral he saw Lieutenant Brorr do the same, living up to her training as a security officer.

“ _Spock!_ S’chn T’gai Spock! Sochya eh dif, my friend!” Stonn was laughing as he disengaged from the embrace, keeping both of Spock’s hands clasped in his for a moment. Spock, to Jim’s surprise, remained immobile. Jim was aware of the significance of hand-to-hand contact in vulcan society, but Spock didn’t seem to be too affected. Jim relaxed minutely as it became clear Spock was not in any physical danger—psychological, on the other hand… Jim couldn’t deny the burst of warmth he often felt when he saw through the cracks in a vulcan’s facade, but this Stonn was nothing like Spock, or Sarek, or T’Pau _._ Not even _Ambassador_ Spock, the least rigid vulcan Jim had ever met, was like this. If there had ever been any pretense of stoicism in his demeanor, it was too far gone for Jim to see it. He could only imagine how this encounter was affecting Spock, who valued that pretense so highly, who only allowed himself to become so unguarded in the most dire situations.

“ _Spock,_ ” Stonn continued, “I have never had logical cause to doubt my own senses, and yet…” he trailed off, raising his hand and brushing his fingertips across the smooth edge of one of Spock’s cheeks. “It is gratifying to see you here, my brother.”

‘It is gratifying,’ and not ‘I’m happy to see you,’ Jim noted. _Still a vulcan after all, I guess._

Jim decided it was time to step in, if only to save his poor first officer from the rest of the away team’s blatant gawking. “Stonn, right? I’m Captain Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_ ; it seems like you know my XO already.”

When Stonn turned to face him, Jim could see that his high cheekbones were dappled with greenish freckles and his smile was dimpled. “Spock’s name would be known to any vulcan, particularly after he turned down admission to the Vulcan Science Academy to enlist in Starfleet. Beyond that, however, Spock and I shared educational facilities for several years when we were children together on Vulcan. As did my bondmate, T'Reia.”

Jim didn’t miss the subtle lift of Spock’s eyebrows. Spock had said that name to Sandoval, but Jim had never heard it before today. Over three years into their five-year mission, they’ve been through hell and back together and most of Spock’s past remained a mystery to him. Jim had enough trouble getting through to Spock in the present, at least when neither of them was in immediate mortal danger.

“T'Reia is here on Omicron as well?”

“She travelled to Omicron with us, however…”

Spock understood at once. “I grieve with thee,” he said gently.

Jim’s gaze shifted between Stonn and Spock and then to Sandoval, who had observed the entire exchange calmly. If there had been a fatality, even one, then it was still imperative to continue gathering information about the health of the colony’s inhabitants. No matter how smoothly things seemed to be going at first glance. “Mister Sandoval, is it alright if Doctor McCoy conducts physical examinations of some of the colonists here? We’d like to compare them to the records on file from before you left for Omicron.”

“That’s no problem, Captain. I’ll help you gather whoever you need, and you’re free to conduct examinations in our Centrum—sort of a town hall that we’ve set up in the middle of the colony. Although I think you’ll find that we don’t have too many weaklings here. We’ve returned to a simpler way of life, and we’re all the better for it.”

With that, Jim sent Doctor McCoy to be led to the Centrum by Sandoval, along with Lieutenant Brorr. Ostensibly, she would be there to assist with the physicals, but all things considered, Jim wanted a security officer watching his best friend’s back in case this Centrum wasn’t as innocuous as Sandoval made it out to be. That left Sulu and DuPont, one of the _Enterprise_ ’s science officers, to take the perfunctory readings for their mission report: ambient temperature, radiation levels, soil analysis, and so on. And _that_ left Jim and Spock to figure out what the hell was going on and why the hell everyone on this planet wasn’t radioactive dust by now.

“Captain,” Spock said in a low voice, turning in towards him. _Right on time, commander,_ Jim thought fondly as Spock continued: “Has it escaped your notice that there is no observable animal life here aside from the colonists themselves?”

“We’ve only been here for a few minutes, Spock. So they keep their livestock in a different field, what about it?”

“Not even insects, Captain,” Spock insisted. “It is… disconcerting.”

Before Jim could ask what else Spock was thinking, Stonn made his presence known again with a hand on Jim’s forearm. “Captain Kirk, if there are no urgent tasks for Spock to complete, I would ask to speak with him unaccompanied for a time.” He opened his address to both of them then. “It has been years since I have had the opportunity to interact with another who shares my language; my thoughts; my home.”

Home. That meant Vulcan.

 _Years_ , Jim realized, and his heart plummeted. If the colonists have had no contact with the outside world for over five years, then…

They should speak alone.

Jim looked to Spock for confirmation, and at his nod Jim waved the two of them off to have some privacy.

Well, that left _Jim._


	2. Chapter 2

“Vulcan is gone,” Stonn repeated, his dark eyes locked onto Spock’s.

“Yes.” 

“I grieve with thee, Spock.”

“And I with thee.”

The two were sitting across from each other on Stonn’s floor, a surface made of plain wooden slats, spaced loosely enough that Spock could see the bare dirt beneath them in the places where no blankets had been laid out to cover the floor. Stonn’s home, a single spacious room, was sparsely decorated—typically vulcan, although he himself was anything but. There was, by the window, a line of four clay pots, each one containing a species of flowering plant with which Spock was unfamiliar. Set on a cushion was a ka’athrya, a vulcan lyre. On the side of the room opposite Stonn’s plants laid a mattress. Spock concluded that activities such as taking meals and bathing must be performed in communal facilities, as there was no evidence for their taking place here.

“I did feel it,” Stonn said abruptly. “I felt the destruction of Vulcan in my mind, the deaths of my brothers and sisters, but I could not have known the source of the disruption.” Spock listened to Stonn in silence, intent to hear every word. Despite the subject matter, there was comfort in hearing the vulcan language spoken aloud in a time when there were so few left to speak it. “When I felt their pain, when I felt my bonds with those at home sever, I came to the conclusion that it was simply an unforeseen effect of…living… on Omicron Ceti III.”

Spock nodded, considering the possibility. “It was logical, given you had no access to information from outside this colony, to assume that any unexplained changes to your mind were simply peculiar effects of the radiation.”

“Radiation?”

“You are unaware?” Spock asked, brow lifted. “Omicron Ceti III is under constant, heavy bombardment by high-frequency emissions from an anomalous source in nearby space. These emissions are called Berthold rays, and they are demonstrably fatal.”

“I see. Have you confirmed the presence of this radiation yourself, Spock?”

“I have. Positive readings were taken by our instruments approximately twenty one minutes before we were beamed to the surface, and the radiation has been consistently observed from a distance for four-point-eight-seven years by Starfleet scientists.”

Stonn looked thoughtfully at Spock for a moment. “When we first arrived on the planet, our instruments detected the kind of radiation you are describing,” he admitted. “However, as weeks passed, then months, and now years, and none of our party has succumbed to the effects of radiation poisoning, I came to the conclusion that it was our instruments that had been damaged somehow, and there was no such radiation.”

“Fascinating.” 

They sat together for another moment, simply observing each other as Spock allowed his mind to form connections using the information he had heard. Stonn was not the vulcan he had been when Spock knew him. Perhaps it was to be expected, as Spock had known Stonn when he was, at the latest, roughly sixteen years old. But Stonn had been, in a word, ordinary. In terms of academic achievement, musical proficiency, even physical appearance, Stonn maintained a standard of perfect normality. He existed comfortably somewhere around the 50th percentile of vulcans his age in all ranked subjects. His emotional restraint had likely never been perfect, although Spock was aware that he would have perceived any full-blooded vulcan’s control as immaculate by comparison to his own adolescent failures. Stonn’s behavior had never been disruptive—Spock could assert that much as fact. Stonn had never been noteworthy

How had he come to live in the Omicron system with these human colonists? When had he become so… unrestrained? 

And what of T’Reia?

Stonn had evidently forgotten subtlety along with restraint, Spock thought as he became acutely aware of Stonn’s eyes travelling along the planes of his face, his uniformed chest, his  _ hands,  _ Stonn had taken his hands when they met and his warmth and his steady calmness and some unnameable wild feeling lurking underneath it like a desert and an oasis and the sound of thunder and the windchimes his mother had hung up around their home on Vulcan had bled through Spock’s clothes and into his skin when Stonn embraced him—

The following fell out of Spock’s dry mouth all at once: “You told me that you believed the effects of Vulcan’s destruction on your psyche were an unforeseen effect of ‘living on Omicron Ceti III.’ If you were unaware of the Berthold rays as you have said, to what did you refer?”

“Spock,” Stonn said, his voice thick with—sympathy? something, Spock could not read him, despite or perhaps because of his lack of emotional obfuscation—as he drew closer to Spock so that they were no longer like planets in opposition, now only two vulcan bodies beside each other. “Would you like to be happy again?”

Spock could not recall with certainty if he had ever been happy, so instead of answering Stonn’s question he said: “I do not understand your insinuation.”

“You could be happy, Spock. I grieved the loss of Vulcan when I first embarked on this expedition, but Omicron Ceti III has become a home for us. It could be a home for you.” 

Spock was certain that he would grieve the loss of Vulcan for as long as he lived. He would feel rough red dust slipping endlessly through his fingers whenever his hands were unoccupied. He had accepted this. There was no home left for him in the void where Vulcan once orbited, nor was there home for him on Earth or on any other planet.

“We have peace here, Spock. Complete peace and contentment, unburdened by technology, unburdened by the Federation of Planets, unburdened by progress. We produce only what we need to live, and we live only for each other.”

“It would be illogical for me to view progress as a burden. Were it not for countless significant discoveries made in the fields of chemistry and biology over the course of Vulcan’s history, my own conception would have been impossible.” Spock did not explain to Stonn that his mother was human. The unique circumstances of his birth were common knowledge among vulcans, particularly those who had shared his childhood educational facilities.

“Time is a path,” Stonn said, quoting from Surak’s wisdom, “from the past to the future and back again.”

Then he stood, and Spock felt the absence of his body heat. “I would like to share something with you, Spock.” He bent down in front of the window and picked up one of the potted plants sitting there. He placed it directly in front of Spock and knelt there with the flowering plant between them. The flower: a single blossom with pink petals, more saturated in color at the center than at the outside edges, approximately six point three inches in diameter, housing an exaggerated yellow pistil and stamen, heavy with what appeared to be pollen. “This plant is responsible for the quality of life in our colony. Under its influence, we live free from pain and free from sorrow. It gives us peace.

“You mean to say that some part of the plant is used in the manufacturing of a drug,” Spock said. “A drug intended to alter emotional responses by manipulating the subject’s neurological systems.”

Stonn smiled, shook his head. “No, Spock, no. There is no manufacturing here, only nature. All it takes is to get close enough to inhale the airborne spores that the flower emits.”

“Spores—” Spock climbed to his feet with urgency to distance himself from the plant, but a dusty cloud of yellow spores had already spurted out of the flower and engulfed him.

He braced himself, concentrating on  _ control control remain in control _ repeating  _ I am in control of my emotions I am in control of my emotions  _ and it took all of his strength to remain on his feet as the first thing he felt was  _ pain.  _ He was not in control of his emotions and his mind reached out instinctively to feel bonds where there were none, where there was an empty space where his mother once stood on a cliff, an open wound he could not touch because then he would feel it, a vow to T’Pring broken with the destruction of Vulcan, a bond that he never fully formed with Nyota,  _ himself _ , himself from that other universe dead and gone and he saw the photograph of his other self and the other crew of the other  _ Enterprise _ and he reached out for Jim Kirk and saw him dying again on the other side of the glass and he felt Stonn’s steady hands guiding him down to sit on the mattress on the floor just as he felt his legs give out underneath him. 

Stonn’s voice cut through the roar of Spock’s mind, telling him to “let it go, Spock. Feel it, and then let it go. Feel it, and then the pain will leave you,” he said, and Spock found he did not have a choice. 

A choked half-sob escaped his throat, and then he threw his head back with laughter. He could not resist any of it. He felt himself smiling, and he looked at Stonn and Stonn was smiling, too. The pain had left him.

“See, Spock? You can be at home now. Now you belong to all of us, and we to you. There is no need to hide your inner face any longer. I know that you feel, like all of us do. We understand.”

Spock reached towards Stonn with his right hand, his first and second fingers extended. “I love you,” he said without planning to.

Stonn met Spock’s fingers with two of his own and their minds met and Spock felt  _ safewarmhappy  _ and  _ loved _ . 

“I can love you,” he said to Stonn with wonder.


	3. Chapter 3

After watching Spock disappear into that house with the other vulcan, Stonn, Jim decided he had some investigating to do on his own. First, he needed to confirm Spock’s hunch about the animals. Or lack thereof. He found a spot on the ground, lowering himself onto the lush blue-green Omicron-Ceti-III-equivalent-of-grass and leaning comfortably against the wide base of a tree, out of earshot of the colonists who were still working and milling around outside. He took out his comm and activated the transmitter, hailing the _Enterprise._

“This is Kirk to _Enterprise._ Kirk to _Enterprise_. Do you read me?”

“ _Enterprise._ This is Uhura. We read you, Captain,” Uhura’s smooth voice answered, faintly distorted in transmission.

“Uhura, I need you to run a bioscan on the surface, specifically excluding humanoid and vulcanoid biosignatures. Filter out plant life as well, if you can.”

“Aye, Captain. It’ll be just a minute.”

Jim waited, searching the ground himself for any signs of animal life but finding no trace of it, just like Spock had said. Not so much as an anthill.

His comm chirped, and Uhura’s voice filtered through once more. “The bioscan is complete, Captain.”

“Well?”

“Well, sir, there’s nothing. Once you ignore humanoid, vulcanoid, and botanical biosignatures, there’s nothing living on the surface at all.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. That’s all for now. Kirk out.”

He commed Sulu next, to confirm that his and Lieutenant DuPont’s findings corroborated what Uhura had just told him. It turned out that not only were there no _animals_ on Omicron Ceti III, but the soil and groundwater were practically devoid of microorganisms and bacteria. Plant life was somehow able to flourish here and Jim could accept that native plants might have evolved to withstand the Berthold rays or even to thrive on them—hopefully, Hikaru and DuPont were at least having some fun trying to figure that one out—but how had the colonists survived all this time when no other animal life could? A second look at the original files on the colonizing mission on his PADD confirmed that the colonists brought domesticated livestock with them when they embarked, and some had even brought along their dogs and cats.

Jim returned his PADD to its place on his belt and stood, brushing dust off of his pants. He ran a hand back across his hair and surveyed the colonial establishment. He didn’t know what to make of it. No animal life, but roughly a hundred people who had survived deadly radiation bombardment for five years. And if any of them missed their dead pets, it didn’t show. It seemed like Sandoval was telling him the truth when he said the people here were happy, but even so, there must have been something at play here that he wasn’t seeing. He watched a pair of smiling women carry their baskets of fresh vegetables down a path leading away from him, past two of what he guessed were houses and into a larger structure that must be the Centrum.

Something here just didn’t fit.

He followed the women towards the Centrum, figuring that the next step to putting the puzzle pieces together would be to check in with Bones.

 

***

 

“Let me get this straight, Bones. You’re telling me that _everyone_ on Omicron is in perfect health?”

Bones was sitting in the only chair in the newly minted examination room, so Jim hopped up onto the makeshift examination table to take a seat. “ _And,_ ” he continued incredulously, “you’re telling me they haven’t established any medical facilities in the past five years?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And when I say perfect health I mean _perfect_ health, Jim. Out of the thirty-odd patients I’ve scanned, regardless of age or sex, I haven’t detected anything as bad as a scraped knee. Take Elias Sandoval, for instance.” Bones picked up a PADD, swiped it a couple times and held it up so Jim could see the results of Sandoval’s medscans. “That’s a diagram of his body that should have color-coded indications of any internal injuries, damaged or missing organs, or scar tissue of any kind. And it’s completely blank.”

“Well, he did tell us there weren’t any _weaklings_ here on Omicron, whatever that means,” Jim recalled.

“This isn’t a case of weak or strong, Jim. Take a look at the medscan results Sandoval left on file just before his mission set out.” Bones swiped to another diagram. The outline was the same, but… “It clearly shows scar tissue on his lungs, evidence of fractured bones—from childhood injuries, according to the report—and a missing appendix. Since he founded this colony, Sandoval hasn’t just been staying healthy and avoiding accidents. Don’t ask me how, Jim, but he’s managed to _regrow his appendix_ , and without any medical facilities of any kind _._ And I mean none. I’d bet you this medical tricorder is the closest thing to a first aid kit on the whole damn planet.”

“Well, shit.”

“You’re telling me, kid.”

“You’re sure it’s not just an equipment malfunction?”

Bones looked at him with disbelief. “Come on, Jim, don’t insult me. I tested the tricorder out on myself, and it correctly flagged my missing tonsils with no problem. The scans are accurate.”

So much for putting the puzzle pieces together. In any case, their original mission goal had been rendered moot, so it was time to check back in with Starfleet Command on this one.

 

***

 

Twenty-five minutes and an aggravating comm session with Admiral Komack later, Jim had orders to round up everyone on Omicron Ceti III and beam them aboard the _Enterprise_ so they could be relocated to the nearest starbase. With or without visible symptoms, it wouldn’t fly to leave a hundred Federation citizens in a confirmed dangerously radioactive environment, especially with all of their comm systems inexplicably shut down.

Easygoing as the colonists seemed to be, Jim had a sinking feeling that they weren’t going to leave their own slice of paradise without putting up a fight.

Unfortunately, Sandoval confirmed that suspicion about thirty seconds into what Jim hoped against hope would be a civil, cooperative discussion of evacuation logistics.

“You’re being ridiculous, Captain Kirk. Radiation? I know for a fact, and your own medical scans should confirm, that everyone here is in perfect health. More than that, we’re happy here.”

“It’s an unsafe environment, Mister Sandoval. Starfleet cannot and will not allow the _Enterprise_ to leave a hundred of our Federation citizens to be knowingly exposed to any potentially deadly planetary conditions. Maybe in a few years you’ll be able to re-establish this colony, but not until we have a full understanding of the Berthold rays.”

“There’s nothing to understand, captain, these ‘Berthold rays,’” he said it in the same flippant way he might talk about a kid’s imaginary friend, “have simply had no effect on our colony or our way of life. We _like_ it here and I can assure you every one of us will want to stay. This is our home.”

“Sorry, but not anymore,” Jim said, holding fast. “I have my orders and those orders are to evacuate this colony, with or without your help.”

“Without, I should think,” said Sandoval, with finality, as he swept out of the room to do—well, whatever the hell he actually did on this colony. Picking fruit or something.

“That didn’t go as badly as it could’ve,” Jim said, turning to Bones, who had watched the interaction with no small amount of contempt for Sandoval and whose current expression said something like _yeah right, kid_. Jim picked up his comm and flipped it open, sitting back up on the examination table. “I’m gonna comm Spock, try to consolidate our forces and decide how to handle this evacuation without our esteemed colony leader’s support.”

 

***

 

In the preceding 2.37 hours, Spock had only stopped smiling when it became absolutely necessary for him to do so in order to continue kissing Stonn. At some point they were inspired to find their way outside and now Spock, minus one pair of black Starfleet regulation boots and one dark blue planetside excursion uniform jacket, was staring up at the _sky_ of all things, lying back in the grass with his head pillowed on Stonn’s thigh.

Stonn was idly plucking out a melody on the ka’athrya, and Spock could feel the warm calm of his mind, the result of all his years of contentment spilling into him through their points of contact. It felt good.

“Look at that sun setting,” Stonn said.

Spock looked, and he watched the yellow sun of Omicron Ceti III for a long moment as it sank slowly behind the horizon. It was fascinating, he thought, the way that altering the angle at which sunlight filters through the atmosphere could change its appearance to vulcan eyes from blue to pink and dusty purple; could paint the bottoms of the clouds vibrant orange and red as the planet rotated and rays of light began to hit them from below. It was also beautiful.

“I have never observed a natural or astronomical phenomenon with the sole motive of considering its beauty,” Spock admitted. “I could tell you the equations that would predict the color of the sky of a given planet at any given time of day, but before this moment I would not have thought to associate the observation of a sunset with a sensation of pleasure.”

“Oh, _Spock_ —”

Stonn set the ka’athrya aside and lowered his head to press a kiss to Spock’s forehead and at the same moment Spock heard the chirping of his communicator where it was lying on the ground two feet away and moved to sit up to retrieve it. Their heads knocked together and Spock fell back down laughing. He was still laughing when he flipped his communicator open.

“—k to Spock. Spock, it’s Jim. Do you read me? This is—”

“Yes, Jim, what did you want?” Spock replied breezily, cutting off the captain’s stream of increasingly exasperated attempts to hail him.

There was a pause on the other end of the comm.

“...Spock, is that you?”

“ _Yes,_ Jim. Did you need something?”

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, Spock?”

“I am watching the sunset, Jim. If you are not otherwise engaged at the moment, I would invite you to join me.”

“Watching the _sunset_ —where are you, Spock?”

“I am sending you my coordinates now,” Spock said and ended the transmission without another word as soon as his comm confirmed his location data has been sent.

  
***

 

Jim stared down at his now silent comm in disbelief.

“Well that didn’t sound like Spock,” Bones observed, echoing Jim’s own thoughts.

“I think I heard him _laughing_ , Bones.”

“Then we’d better get over there fast, ‘cause the last time I saw that walking calculator crack a smile he was delirious from heavy blood loss.”

“Let’s hope that’s not what’s happening this time,” Jim said. He shot Bones a wry smile and gestured for him to start moving. “Come on, I got the coordinates. Let’s find him.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Jim reached his first officer’s alleged coordinates and saw nothing but discarded pieces of his uniform, his first thought was that his  _ alien  _ had been alien-abducted, beamed up to a flying saucer like something out of an old Earth holovid, leaving only his boots and jacket behind. 

What he saw next was even harder to believe: Spock, as in his first officer Spock, Commander Spock of the starship  _ Enterprise _ , decorated Starfleet officer Spock, S’chn T’Gai Spock of  _ Vulcan _ , for god’s sake, about twenty feet away from him and Bones, sitting in a  _ tree,  _ dangling one leg off towards the ground with that other vulcan standing next to him. Jim actually rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing correctly. Especially the part where he could see Spock smiling.

Smiling. He thought seeing Stonn with an unschooled, un-vulcan expression was a shock to his system, but this was  _ Spock. _

Spock. Smiling! He couldn’t think about anything else.

It wasn’t like that thing he would do with his eyes when he’d finally checkmated Jim after a three-week-long game of 3D chess. It wasn’t like the subtle, satisfied twitch of his mouth Jim saw sometimes when he and Bones were exchanging jabs and he got the last word in. It wasn’t even like the way his whole expression would soften with relief when he’d been sitting next to a biobed in sickbay and he watched Jim finally wake up. Not even that, and seeing  _ that _ look on Spock’s face first thing after an away mission that went tits-up had brought Jim almost to tears more than once.

Spock was smiling, and it made him look more human than Jim had ever seen him, pointy ears be damned, and Jim wished he could shake off the strangeness of the day and forget about the more disconcerting features of the Omicron colony and just keep looking at Spock’s face, even more attractive in its unguardedness than Jim had imagined it might be after Bones confessed to him with exaggerated horror that he’d had the questionable privilege of seeing Spock laughing back on Altamid.

“Well,” said Bones, “it doesn’t look like he’s delirious from  _ blood loss  _ this time.”

Jim shook his head imperceptibly, forcing himself to refocus on anything but Spock’s face so that he could start functioning intelligently again.

“My God, Jim, are the two of them holding hands? Exactly how long did you leave them alone together?”

Jim barely heard him, or the badly stifled giggle from Lieutenant Brorr. He was still trying to untwist the knots in his stomach when Spock skillfully lowered himself to the ground and approached them.

“Leonard!” Spock exclaimed warmly, settling his hands on Bones’s shoulders in a kind of at-arm’s-length embrace. “I had not anticipated that you would join us, but I am glad you are here. I have long associated the sight of your face with the distinct sensation of pleasure,” Spock confessed.

Bones took a step back and threw up his hands in front of his chest as though he were putting up a shield to protect himself from any more unwelcome sentimentality. Seeing the look on Bones’s face, Jim was just relieved that he had enough fortitude not to turn and high-tail it back to the  _ Enterprise  _ right then and there. Or maybe Spock’s declaration had just short-circuited him enough that he couldn’t make his legs work.

“Now Spock, I don’t know what’s gotten into you but I can assure you there’s no call for  _ that _ kind of language,” Bones said, attempting to restore some of the vitriol to their established rapport.

“To the contrary, I would think that there would be ‘no call’ for obfuscation when my admiration for you is already clear.”

Bones bristled outwardly, but Jim had watched him sparring with Spock often enough to recognize the concentrated effort Bones was exerting to keep a smile off his face and make sure his expression remained somewhere on the ‘neutral to grumpy’ end of the spectrum.

“Whatever you say, Spock, just don’t get all huggy and kissy on me now.”

“Of course, Leonard,” Spock replied easily. “Trust that I would not consider initiating either hugs or kisses without your express consent.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Bones grumbled, keeping his guard up nonetheless.

It took all of Jim’s willpower not to tell Spock that he could have  _ Jim’s  _ consent any time he wanted. Whatever was happening to Spock, it was testing his self-restraint in more ways than one.

“Spock,” Jim said, unable to rationalize Spock’s behavior but hoping he was still himself enough to focus on the matter at hand,  “I ordered a bioscan on the planet’s surface and you were right, there isn’t a single animal living here aside from the colonists. We haven’t been able to figure out how they’ve survived the Berthold rays yet, but  in the meantime we have orders to evacua—”

Jim stopped talking because Spock’s hands were suddenly on his face, framing his cheeks on either side, drifting down to trace along his jaw.

“You’re beautiful, Jim,” Spock told him breathlessly, with wild, dark eyes and a quiet urgency that suggested a scientific breakthrough more than it did a compliment. “Like the sunset,” he said. “I have never allowed myself to see how beautiful you are.”

The confession set off something bright and fluttering in Jim’s abdomen at the same time that it was like a slap across his face—a stinging confirmation that Spock had never really looked at him the way he’d found himself looking at Spock over the past four years, i.e. gazing upon him with lust in his heart, particularly when he caught sight of him bending over the science console on the bridge in those tight uniform pants… 

He felt the rough pad of Spock’s thumb brush over his bottom lip and the sensation brought him back to the present with a jolt. He took a step back, more for his own sanity than anything else.

“All right, Spock, I think it’s time we got you off this planet. Come on, let’s go back to the beam-up point.”

Spock regarded him carefully before he replied, inclining his head minutely in defiance. “I find that I do not want to, Jim.”

“That’s an  _ order _ , Mister Spock.”

“I know it is, captain. Nevertheless, I think I shall remain here.”

“Commander,” Jim gritted out, taking care to maintain a stern tone even though it always made him feel like a jackass when he had to break out the ‘captain voice’ on his crew, “I don’t care how much you like it here, you’re still a Starfleet officer and we still have orders to carry out, and right now  _ your orders  _ are to report to the beam-up point immediately.”

Spock’s soft smile would have been beguiling at any other moment. It might have made Jim go weak in the knees if anything had come out of Spock’s mouth along with it except for the single word that did.

“No.”

“All right, commander, seeing as you’ve just refused to obey orders from a commanding officer I’m placing you under arrest. From now on you’re in the custody of Lieutenant Brorr.” On cue, she took a step forward, phaser set to stun. “Take him to the beam-up point and get him on board the  _ Enterprise _ , and get back-up if you need it.”

“Aye, captain.”

Jim turned away and took out his comm to hail the  _ Enterprise _ and tell Scotty to expect a belligerent vulcan. Before he’d even opened the right hailing frequency, Sulu and DuPont emerged from farther afield, advancing on Jim’s other side with and catching him off guard.

“Captain!” they both greeted him exuberantly, getting his attention.

“Sulu; DuPont,” he acknowledged. “What the hell are those?”

He gestured vaguely, indicating the large green stalks both of them held in their hands. 

“Flowers, sir,” DuPont said cheerfully. For a biologist specializing in flora, she sure wasn’t bothering to bore him with the details. He was used to asking his scientists for a little  _ less _ elaboration when it came to their fields of study, not more.

“I can see that they’re flowers, Lieutenant,” Jim said, exasperated. “They’re bright pink and about six inches across. What are the two of you  _ doing  _ with the flowers?” he asked, just hoping she wouldn’t say  _ holding them, captain. _

“We want to beam them aboard the  _ Enterprise  _ for further study, captain,” Sulu explained.

“I...trust your judgment, Lieutenants,” Jim said, not quite sure that he did at that moment, “but are you sure that’s safe? Won’t they have been saturated with the Berthold rays?”

“Perfectly safe, sir,” said DuPont reassuringly. “We’ve already beamed up four or five samples, after all. We just want to make sure we have enough for everyone!”

“Explain, Lieutenant,” he demanded, frustration growing.

She opened her mouth to reply when suddenly one of the blossoms in her arms emitted a thick cloud of yellowish powder. It spurted directly onto Bones and the remnants drifted out to dust both Jim and Spock. Jim wasted no time in shaking the powder off of him, rounding on his officers in an undignified huff.

“So you beamed these plants aboard without permission. Why?” 

He felt Bones’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on, now, Jimmy, don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s just a couple of plants,” he said placatingly, his Georgian drawl just a little more pronounced than it had been before.

Plants. Of  _ course _ , the plants. They must’ve emitted some kind of mood altering compound. That didn’t explain the Berthold rays, but at least it explained  _ Spock _ .

Jim brushed Bones off of him and headed to the beam-up point alone, then hailed the transporter room.

“Kirk to  _ Enterprise,  _ do you read me, Scotty?”

“Aye, captain, would ye like to come aboard?”

“Yes, immediately.”

“You’ll have to wait just a wee tick, captain. I’ve got a group just about ready to beam down at the moment.”

“Beam  _ down _ ? Under whose orders!?”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’m just getting everybody down to the surface. We’ve all decided we’d like to join that colony down there. I suppose ye’d like to come up and pack your things before ye beam down for good yourself.”

“Scotty, do not beam down anyone else, that’s an order. Effective immediately.”

“Sorry, sir, you’re a little late with that one.”

A group of five crewmen materialized beside him.

“Beam me up, Mister Scott,  _ now _ .”

“Aye, sir.”

Jim was seething as he felt the familiar sensation of his particles dissipating and reassembling themselves in the transporter room. He stormed off the transporter pad, addressing Scotty sharply. “I’m telling you, Mister Scott, if you beam down one more body without my orders that’s an act of mutiny.”

“All right, sir,” Scotty replied, returning his attention to the console for a moment. “The next five can come on now,” he said over his shoulder, drawing Jim’s attention to a long line of officers stretching out into the corridor, all waiting for their turn to beam down.

He glared straight ahead, furiously avoiding eye contact with each of the deserting crew members as he marched along their ranks directly up to the bridge.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Captain’s Log, Supplemental_ **

_ For the first time in going on four years, I find myself now operating without the greatest asset of the  _ Enterprise _ —that is, her crew. The last of the four hundred and twenty eight officers under my command have just beamed down onto the surface of Omicron Ceti III, to claim their own plot of earth in the Garden of Eden. Every one of them has been infected by the spores from those pink flowers. The spores, when inhaled, seem to induce relaxation, contentment, maybe even happiness. I don’t know why I have remained unaffected. I suspect that when I was exposed to the spores, I was too angry to succumb to their influence. I think that strong emotions, or needs, may counteract the effects of the spores. Without any data to back me up, that’s the best I can do—and I can’t risk spending enough time in close proximity to the plants to run any real tests. _

_ Lieutenant Uhura has graciously freed me of the burden of a functioning subspace comm unit, and no one person can fly a Constitution class starship on their own… so it is possible that this log will never find its way back to Starfleet Command. The  _ Enterprise  _ can remain in orbit for a time, even with non-life-support systems shut down, but eventually, unless I can bring my crew back aboard, I will be forced to choose between life in paradise and death in… synchronous orbit above paradise. _

Jim couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Put like that, it seemed like an easy choice, especially when he looked around the empty bridge; saw the empty chairs in front of the comm station, the science console, the helm. And yet…

_ I don’t think we were made to live in paradise. Live in peace? Well, sure, we can try. But we—people, sentient life forms, everyone—we need ambition. We need some form of conflict to survive. To better ourselves, and to help each other. To find out what we’re really made of.  _

_ And I think I know by now what my crew is made of. At least I know what my first officer is made of, and I think I know to get him back. If I don’t make it out of this star system alive, it’ll only be because I know him too well. _

_ Kirk out. Fingers crossed that it’s not for good. _

  
***

 

Jim watched as Spock materialized on the transporter pad: a golden beam of brilliant particles that gradually took the form of his first officer. He had hailed Spock and told him he’d seen the light, and he wanted to beam down and join everyone on the surface, but he needed help gathering some things left on the  _ Enterprise  _ that he thought they could use.

Jim thought the spores must’ve made their hosts dumb, not just happy. Spock would’ve seen through his trick in a second if he’d been in his right mind.

“Commander,” he said tersely as Spock stepped off the transporter pad, feeling tension winding up in every part of his body. God, he hoped this stupid plan was going to work.

“Jim,” Spock greeted him warmly. He looked so soft and disarming that Jim could almost forget about the superior vulcan strength he was about to provoke. Again. And this time without anyone around to drag Spock off of him if he decided to go for the jugular. “I am grateful that you have decided to join us on the surface. What did you need my help with?”

_ Here goes nothing,  _  Jim thought.  _ At least there aren’t any ice planets nearby.  _ He swallowed a hard lump down his throat and summoned all the confidence he could muster. “I don’t need you, Spock.”

Spock’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Jim, you requested my assistance only moments before I beamed aboard—”

“You believed that, Spock? You really believed I could have a use for you when you’re like  _ this _ ? I thought vulcans were supposed to be smart.” Jim paced around the transporter console, keeping his eyes trained on Spock, measuring his reactions. “But you’re not really a vulcan, are you? So what use are you to anyone? What can someone like you contribute to that colony down there?”

“Jim…” Spock stood before him helplessly, stunned. 

“About as much as you contribute to Starfleet, I guess,” Jim continued, refusing to stop, desperate to keep up his momentum as white hot resentment coiled around his ribcage, “because you sure as hell don’t deserve to wear that uniform. You’re a pathetic excuse for an officer—I mean, look at you now, deserting your post, deserting your ship—deserting your captain, Spock!? Is that the kind of behavior you taught your students at the academy!? You taught them how to be a bunch of gutless cowards!?” 

Jim drew in a ragged breath that clawed at the inside of his throat, his words bouncing hollowly against the metal walls of the transporter room, ringing impotently against the sudden silence. Spock stared at him, wide-eyed and quiet, and Jim felt his skin prickle with unpleasant heat in the face of that infuriating immovability. It wasn’t working but he had to keep going. He had to keep talking. 

“I’m—...fuck, Spock, you have let me down,” he admitted, faltering. “I am so… disappointed,” he finished lamely, fists falling open at his sides.

Just as Jim thought it was over, Spock finally took the bait. “You should be pleased, then, captain, that I will no longer be able to disappoint you after I take my final leave. If you will excuse me, I am going to beam down to the surface now.” He made a move towards the transporter console. “To go where I belong,” he said, and Jim thought  _ thank god _ for anything he could take and twist and use to keep Spock talking until he found the right leverage to get through to him.

“You don’t belong anywhere, Spock,” Jim said instantly, finding his counterattack automatically despite the fact that his own guts were revolting violently against that bullshit statement.

“I belong on the surface of that planet,” Spock replied, standing his ground.

“Yeah, I bet you do. What, do you belong with  _ Stonn _ ?” Jim asked without meaning to, shocked by his own vitriol, by how  _ furious  _ the idea made him the second it left his mouth. “You’ve got the nerve to—to—what  _ did  _ you do, Spock, did you  _ bond  _ with him? Did the two of you have a little mind meld party!?” He gestured sharply with each accusation as he rounded in on Spock, getting between him and the transporter console. “Did you really open up and show him all that faulty circuitry rattling around in your brain? Does he know what he’s getting? Does he know exactly how full of shit you are, Spock!?”

“For the first time in my life, I have felt as though I have permission to experience love.”

Jim didn’t even know where to start.

“So, you love him? He loves you? He doesn’t  _ know  _ you, Spock!” Jim pressed his face into his palms, inhaling sharply before throwing his arms open in desperation. “You don’t think anyone else  _ loves _ you?”

Spock averted his eyes and Jim flung himself forward, hot tears blurring his vision and stinging his eyes. He meant to grab Spock’s shoulders and make him  _ look at me, goddamnit  _ but miscalculated and sent them both tumbling to the floor side by side, landing with a pair of resounding cracks as the metal on each of their belts struck the duranium flooring.

Jim rolled right over and pinned Spock to the floor with his hands around Spock’s wrists. His breath came rough and labored, and he knew his face must’ve been bright red because even Spock was looking flushed.

“You don’t think I love you, Spock?”

All of Jim’s anger fell away in an instant as he spoke but when Spock just looked up at him without saying anything it rose up again redoubled, like one of the spitting sea monsters on Charybda IV that grew two new heads whenever one was hacked off.

“I have risked my own life to save your ungrateful green ass how many times!?” he demanded, tightening his grip around each of Spock’s wrists. “And you think I don’t love you!”

“You think I don’t love you,” he repeated. He felt boneless. He was shaking. He released Spock’s arms and lowered himself unceremoniously onto his elbows, and then just collapsed onto Spock’s chest.

Spock shifted minutely underneath him, and after a long, quiet moment Jim felt Spock’s voice rumbling around in his chest cavity more than he heard it coming from his mouth.

“Captain, according to my observations alone you have placed yourself in a position of mortal danger in order to ‘save the ungrateful asses’ of approximately thirty-four point seven percent of the  _ Enterprise _ ’s crew, discounting incidents during which the entire ship was at stake.”

Jim let out an amused breath against Spock’s chest, too exhausted to laugh. “So I have a lot of love to give. What are you gonna do, bring me in for a court martial?”

“No, captain. It may come as a surprise to you but there are very few mentions of love in the Starfleet officers’ code of conduct. Much less Federation law.”

God  _ damn  _ did it feel good to crack a smile after all that yelling, Jim thought. He turned over onto his side, lifting most of his weight off of Spock so that they could look at each other.

“You okay, Spock?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Spock nodded.

“Spores all gone?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Come on, Spock, I just confessed—what would you say?—the  _ depth of my regard _ for you, the least you can do is call me by my first name.”

“All right, Jim.”

“All right, Spock.”

Jim drew in one deep, lung-stretching breath, then let it out, and then got up to his feet

“Now let’s clean up this mess,” he said, turning away from Spock to regain some composure and give his first officer a second to do the same. “As you probably noticed, it looks like strong emotions can disrupt the control of the spores. So, all we have to do now is provoke about a hundred colonists and four hundred Starfleet officers on the ground into an all-out brawl.” 

He faced Spock again to find him up on his feet, brushed off and by all appearances back to his old self. “Do you think you can fix something up so we can broadcast the same signal to all of our comms on the ground at once?”

“Yes, captain. It can be done.”

“Then see to it, commander,” he ordered, not without a teasing undertone. “I’m thinking subsonic waves, like they use to drive away pests but recalibrated for something our size—it’ll really get their skin crawling, you know?”

“I do not know, captain,” Spock said, one eyebrow raised, “but if you are suggesting that our crew will find that their epidermis has gained sapience and is attempting to take leave of their bodies, then I would urge you to reconsider your course of action for the benefit of all.”

Jim knew he couldn’t have stopped himself from grinning as they strode out of the transporter room if he’d wanted to, so he didn’t even bother to try.


	6. Chapter 6

“What I don’t get, Jim, is why she was the only one,” Bones mused later, once the _Enterprise’_ s complement had been brought back to their stations—and more importantly, back to their senses—and they were docked at the nearest starbase to the Omicron system with preparations well underway for the colonists to disembark from the _Enterprise_ for good. “Out of all the hundred-odd people living on that planet, over the whole five years there was only _one_ fatality: T’Reia of Vulcan. Everyone else has been accounted for, and with perfect health.”

“It’s a shame they didn’t keep any medical records down there,” Jim said. “As it stands, we don’t even have any idea how she died.”

“For several days preceding her death, T’Reia suffered from severe headaches, fever, and nausea, as well as pronounced fatigue and frequent spells of disorientation. In short, radiation poisoning. I’m sure you will be able to confirm, doctor, that those symptoms are consistent with the diagnosis I have proposed,” Spock said with a measured, easy tempo that belied the contents of his speech.

Jim regarded his first officer carefully. “How do you know that, Spock?”

“While there was no ‘mind meld party,’ as you so tastelessly suggested, captain, Stonn and I did _talk_ ,” Spock said, looking at Jim like it _wasn’t_ an act of insubordination to call him ‘tasteless’ as long as the next word out of his mouth was ‘captain.’

“And he told you his bondmate died of radiation poisoning?” Bones asked. “Jim and I couldn’t even get that Elias Sandoval to _believe_ in Berthold rays while he was under the influence of the spores, but you’d think he’d have listened to one of his own.”

“No, doctor, he described the symptoms but the conclusion was mine. Based on my experiences, the complacency induced by the toxic spores to which we were all exposed seems to diminish the capacity for critical thought.”

“Still,” said Bones, “why would the Berthold rays only target one person? _How could_ the Berthold rays only target one person?”

“T’Reia was vulcan,” Spock reminded them.

“Well, so was Stonn, and he survived just fine,” Jim said.

“Precisely, captain,” Spock replied. “My suspicion is that Stonn was exposed to the spores before T’Reia, and once she observed the negative effects on his reasoning skills and his ability to moderate his emotions she avoided the plant in order to maintain mental control. A logical position to take, if not for that it left her highly susceptible to radiation poisoning.”

“Hang on a minute, you’re saying those _plants_ were responsible for keeping everyone alive on that colony?” Bones demanded incredulously.

“That is what I said,” Spock confirmed.

“A man regrew his missing appendix!”

Spock’s expression shifted—a minute widening of his eyes, both eyebrows raising just the tiniest amount—into what Jim had figured out was the vulcan equivalent of a shrug. “I am merely stating the apparent facts.”

“I wonder if she figured it out,” Jim said after a moment. “Before it was too late, I mean. I wonder if she knew what kind of choice she was making.”

“An unenviable one, to be sure.”

If Jim heard a rough note of melancholy in Spock’s voice, he also had the sense not to press it just now.

“Commander Spock,” an officer Jim recognized as Moreau said just loudly enough to get Spock’s attention. “One of the colonists has requested to speak with you before he beams down. A vulcan named Stonn. If you’d like, I can take you to him now.”

Jim and Bones watched as Spock followed Moreau off the bridge, exchanging uneasy looks once the turbolift doors were closed behind them.

  
***

“I think that I will go to New Vulcan, in order to aid the reconstruction and return to a vulcan way of life,” Stonn said, standing at a careful distance from Spock just outside the transporter room, waiting for his turn to beam down to the starbase. “I have lived for five years without need, and I have lived for five years without being needed. It will be gratifying to once again act with purpose.”

“It is not unpleasant,” Spock agreed, “to have the knowledge that one’s contributions are of value.”

Stonn nodded. “It was…fleetingly enjoyable, to live on Omicron Ceti III, but any sense of fulfilment that I experienced on that planet was ultimately superficial. In five years, we accomplished nothing; our lives were perfect, and yet, I find that a perfect life is akin to a life half-lived. I am grateful for your intervention, and I regret that it was necessary.”

“Wide experience increases wisdom,” said Spock. Stonn’s eyes were very soft and very dark as he recognized the quotation from Surak’s wisdom. “Your experiences are unlike those of any living vulcan. This is of course true of any life form, however I would not find it unreasonable to say that yours are now of particular distinction.”

“Thank you, Spock.”

“Thanks are unneeded.”

“Perhaps we will meet again.”

“It is illogical to indulge in the speculation of such things, but… yes, I do not think it is unlikely. My father, Ambassador Sarek, resides on New Vulcan.”

“Dif-tor heh smusma, Spock.”

Stonn raised his right hand in the form of the ta’al. His composure remained unbroken.

“Sochya eh dif, Stonn.”

Spock mirrored the gesture.

Stonn gathered up his things, all contained in one bag aside from the ka’athrya, which he carried cradled under his left arm. As he turned to step into the transporter room, he looked not unlike a vulcan poet of antiquity.

  
***

Late that night, Jim found himself wide awake, wandering the corridors of the _Enterprise_ without a destination. He was only half-surprised when his restless feet brought him to the observation deck: Jim had never been above spending an evening in solemn contemplation of the universe, looking out at the stars.

He stepped inside, smiling to himself when he saw his first officer already there, standing in front of the wide transparent aluminum panel that was their window to the stars. He lingered in the entryway, trying to decide if it looked like Spock was having an evening of solemn contemplation that Jim was welcome to join in on or not.

“I did not expect you to be awake at this hour, captain,” said Spock without turning around.

Well, that was the closest thing to an invitation he was going to get. Jim stepped up to stand in line with Spock, whose gaze was still fixed on the observation panel. “How’d you know it was me?”

Spock’s mouth twitched. “An educated guess, captain.”

“We’re off-duty, Spock,” Jim reminded him affectionately.

“Jim,” Spock revised, and then they settled into silence.

They stood beside each other, both looking straight ahead and taking comfort, as they often did, not in touching but in knowing that the other was close enough to touch.

On the other side of the aluminum window, asterisms shifted. Watching the void, Jim imagined that he could see the universe expanding in front of him.

Breathing in.

“I’ve been thinking about those plants—” Jim said at the same time that Spock said:

“I was happy, Jim.”

They looked at each other.

“I was happy in those hours that I spent on the Omicron colony, and for that I am—” a faint crease appeared in between Spock’s brows and Jim could practically see the thesaurus pages flashing across his eyes, “...ashamed,” he admitted finally.

“Spock…”

“It is—troubling to me, Jim, that I cannot say with certainty that I would ever have sought to counteract the effects of the spores without your intervention.”

“Spock, you don’t need to beat yourself up about that. It was practically mind control. Every single member of our crew was affected by it.”

“Except you,” replied Spock instantly.

Jim smiled ruefully, lips tight. “That’s just because I’m too much of a masochistic thrill-seeker to sit still and give myself a break. It’s nothing to be proud of, Spock; it was just good luck that I wasn’t the first one to be exposed.”

He breathed in and looked out at the universe expanding. “For what it’s worth, I think you of all people deserve a few hours of just being happy.”

“If I had been alone, I do not think I would have overcome the effects after only a few hours.”

“Well,” Jim began, taking care to meet Spock’s eyes as he continued, “you don’t need to worry about that, Spock, because you’re not alone.”

“Not at the moment, Jim.”

“No, Spock, not ever,” Jim insisted. When Spock didn’t respond immediately, he barreled on. “When I was talking about the people who love you, I didn’t just mean me. You have to know that, don’t you?”

“Jim…”

“I mean, first of all, what about Uhura? I know you guys broke up, but you have to know she still loves you. She wears your mother’s necklace with her uniform every day. And Bones is crazy about you, too, he’s just too emotionally constipated to ever admit it—not that you’d know anything about that,” Jim added with a teasing smile. “Chekov looks up to you more than anyone. I think about half of the studying he does is just so he can talk to you about all those scientific papers after he’s read them. And,” Jim continued with conspiratorial glee, “you should _see_ the way Nurse Chapel looks at you when you’re out cold in sickbay and she doesn’t think anyone is paying attention.”

Jim didn’t miss the green flush at the tips of Spock’s ears. He could see in Spock’s expression that he was preparing a cursory cynical deflection, but it dissipated before it got out of his mouth.

“Thank you, Jim,” Spock said instead. He looked like he might cry. “You are right. It is illogical to speculate about what I might have done, had I been alone. What I can say with certainty is that, had you succumbed to the influence of the spores and joined me in life on Omicron Ceti III, nothing beyond that planet, no other person and no other place, could have tempted me to leave you.”

“Aw shucks, Spock.” Jim was beaming, and his cheeks felt happily warm. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “First the thing about the sunset and now this. You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy,” he said, suddenly feeling too giddy for his age.

“I am simply relating facts, Jim.”

“And the facts are that I’m a beautiful sunset and you love me so much you’d be willing to give up everything and join a drug-induced happiness cult on a planet in the middle of nowhere just to spend your life with me on a farm?”

In the time that it took for Spock to formulate a response, Jim felt like he was twelve years old again, driving towards the edge of a ravine at a hundred and twenty miles per hour.

“...That is an accurate assessment, captain,” Spock said finally.

Twelve-year-old Jim jumped out of the driver’s seat and caught hold of the ground just before he slid off the edge of the cliff and pulled himself up to his feet, heart racing, a little scraped up but ultimately safe and sound.

“Thank you, commander,” Jim said softly, after a breathless pause.

He and Spock stayed up on the observation deck for a long time without talking.

They watched the stars.

They stood close enough that whenever one of them shifted his weight, their uniform sleeves brushed against each other.

Jim’s memory grasped at a phrase that had been in his head ever since his mind meld with Ambassador Spock.

What was it again?

 

_Never and always._

 

_Touching and touched._


End file.
